


Junkyard

by JhinnyJaxy (ZoicZeph)



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bad Boy Aesthetic, Canon Divergence, Canon Divergent, Flirting, Humor, Language, M/M, Minor Injuries, More Characters to be added(?), Obsessive Behavior, PROJECT AU, Playful Bantering: This Time With a Point System, Teasing, Tickling, UST
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2019-04-20 14:22:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14262918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZoicZeph/pseuds/JhinnyJaxy
Summary: After just having escaped his encounter with Vi and Vayne, Jhin retreats to the lowest levels to the technological junkyard he can loosely call 'home', in order to get back in contact with his mechanic. If you asked him why, he'd state the obvious: there is a hole in his chest. And, because it is an affront to his aesthetic, it must be repaired.What he wouldn't say is that he needed an excuse to see his sweetheart.





	1. Potatoes, Fried Chicken, and Racy Flirting

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place after 'Of Rats and Cats and Neon Mice', with some leeway taken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still trying to get the hang of writing fanfic again, so sorry if anything reads clunky or doesn't line up!

The heavy doors to the run-down workshop creaked open, letting the sound of heavy rain (or what _passed_ for rain) pummeling the pavement outside stream into the quiet workshop. Tinny and sharp, the vaguely rain-like substance that fell down on the scrapyard was oddly clean, despite falling off of the streets in the upper levels of the city. The visitor's slow footsteps were drowned out, making the only clue to their successful entrance their tall, thin shadow that stretched across the floor like a thing straight out of your worst nightmare, and the cold red glow from their cybernetic body. Something was placed on the ground with a _tump_ and a papery crackle as the visitor turned around. The doors closed. There was silence.

 

All the ruckus failed to alarm the workshop's inhabitant, who rested at his desk. Using his arm as a pillow, and his hood to block out light, the mechanic appeared to be no more than a sad lump of dirty laundry piled on top of a chair.

 

The visitor let out a frizzled sigh and bent down to pick up the ball of jacket they had placed on the floor. It featured a memorable collar of snarled furr, now damp with rain, and a dark gray-green outside layer. The visitor's hands, unsteady due to his shivering, fiddled with the jacket ball until he unraveled it from around the paper bag inside. Then he made his way over to the desk that the mechanic sat at. Or rather, layed at - they were asleep. He placed the bag in front of them, waking them instantly (though he doubted they were _actually_ asleep), then put the jacket back on. For a few still moments, he stood in silence, letting his chilled circuits and metal parts warm.

 

"What is it?" asked the mechanic, Jax, as he sat up and started to unroll the top of the bag.

 

"Food," the visitor replied, dryly.

 

"Double-bagged?"

 

"If you think I'm soiling my jacket with that _trash_ , you're mistaken."

 

Jax peered into the bag, hesitantly sticking his hand in, then pulled what appeared to be a potato slice, turned the kind of brownish color you get from frying something. The smell of cooking oil and grease wafted through the warm workshop. It didn't seem to phase the mechanic, who only looked quizzically at the food before shoving it in his mouth and glancing back to his work.

 

"Jo-jos, is what I think they called them," the visitor said pointedly, kindling some conversation as he willed his nearly-frozen metal legs to head to the mechanic's bed. "Oh, and fried chicken... at least, I think it's chicken..."

 

"Oh, nice. Are they for me? 'Cause if not.."

 

"Being as you're the only _technically_ living being in the room, and likely haven't eaten a proper meal in two days? Yes."

 

He'd only get a mildly annoyed grumble of _'Jhin..'_ in reply, muffled behind, presumably, more potatoes Jax had shoved in his mouth. Finally managing to reach the bed after several agonisingly slow steps, the PROJECT looked it over. It was a mess. Blankets were thrown lazily to one side, pillows flattened and stained, both probably having gone unwashed for well over a month. The bed perhaps left unmade for slightly longer, however possible that may be. Jhin leaned over and slowly drifted his hands across the tattered blankets, carefully deciding which one to steal. He’d memorized every one of them over the years - Jax didn’t often go out to buy new ones. There was the soft blackish green one, probably a fleece, that had two holes on opposite corners. There was a tan one, that used to be brown, like chocolate, dotted with blues and greens - but was so used that it seemed like the cheap dyes in the blanket had gone on strike. A bright yellow one that miraculously has gone unscathed, save for a few frayed ends here and there, a gray one that was torn in two at one point and hastily stitched back together with fluorescent green yarn, and of course who could miss the best one - a big, jet-black comforter embroidered with red stars and nebulae and ringed planets. Jhin had bought that one for Jax’s birthday, some years prior. It was, remarkably, well-kept and intact.

 

He settled and grabbed a rough, blue-gray blanket, pulling it from the bed and bundling up in his arms. He buried his flickering face into the blanket. The scent of his mechanic clung to the sheet, something of worn cloth and oil. Like an old rag, dirtied up after being used on hundreds of rebuilds and repairs. A slight hint of alcohol was there, too, but was blissfully ignored by the PROJECT in his moment of overwhelming ecstasy. He'd been _craving_ that smell. He'd _longed_ for it for _days_ , or what passed for days in the foggy darkness of the city. The neon lights of all the shops lent nothing towards a distraction, and climbing up through the levels towards the light of the sun were more of a source of guilt rather than solace. He was close, once, to the surface. He could see the true light of day just beyond the winding roads and pathways, above the countless elevators and lifts towards the top. He could almost feel the warmth he'd dreamt of for so long. He was almost there.

 

_But,_ he had reminded himself as he was waiting for the last lift. _Without him._

 

The wave of bittersweet memories washed over him in a flash of anxiety. The familiar buzz of incandescent lights, of broken down cars, of rusted iron and tattered cloth, of his mechanic - especially his mechanic - the tired, lonely, mildly-frustrating man he was. If he had not been so convinced of his total lack of weakness, he’d say he had missed it all.

 

_You knew he wanted to go, too,_ a little voice whispered to him. How selfish, to leave without bringing him. _If it was so easy for you to manage yourself, it would have been easy to bring him along too._

 

Also, the authorities caught onto him, alongside that little kitten that always nipped at his heels when he was… practically anywhere but the scrapyard. They were oddly keen on blowing his head off, for some reason. So there was that. After successfully throwing them off-track, he started on his way back. A little voice worried about the damage his kitten's bolt left behind. Another voice hoped Jax hadn't noticed he was gone for too long.

 

Was it an addiction? Likely. But it was by far the most healthy and comforting ones in Jhin's myriad of mad obsessions. Who's to say a little crush would be bad?

 

"Whatchya doin' there, buggaboo?"

 

A pleased noise escaped him. Warmth washed over his metal body, the cold raindrops that had still clung to him forgotten as they dripped slowly to the floor. Jhin fell into the bed and bundled himself up in every blanket he could reach until the only trace of him was the flickering red glow from his facial screen through a small opening in the pile.

 

"Cold," he replied. "Very cold."

 

"Yeah, pretty wild out there, huh? Don't think it's drizzled this bad since the ice ages."

 

"I highly doubt that."

 

"Sure thing."

 

"It's statistically improbable."

 

"Yet jus' sayin' that t' sound smart."

 

"Mmh... Likely."

 

A cocky grin was thrown his direction, made even sillier with the small potato skin that clung to the mechanic's cheek. Jax lifted a hand to wipe away the offending potato, then turned away. A minor victory in the game of playful bantering, a veritable source of the elusive thing called 'happiness' in the world they lived in. A game where, in this round, Jax was starting off with one point in the lead.

 

"Ya didn't have to get me 'em, yano. The Jim-Jams er whatever you called 'em."

 

"Jo-jos," Jhin answered before realizing the trap, another point to Jax. "And yes I did. I'd rather you eat and not die, than have you pass away from starvation and leave me on my own. You know I'd die without you. Who else would willingly repair a thing like me, night after night?"

 

Jax gave a dismissive wave, "Cute. Where'd ya hear that, Romeo? Those sappy 80-year-old rom-coms ya've got into lately?"

 

"It may have been inspired by them, but unfortunately for you it was of my own heart's making."

 

A rumbling chuckle from the mechanic, a point to Jhin.

 

"Thought you scrapped that thing years ago."

 

"Woe, the cruelty!” Jhin wailed in mock pain, throwing a hand over his forehead. “I thought you knew me better than that, darling.."

 

“ _Oh-ho_ yeah, I’m familiar.”

 

“To say that to my face, without even a thought! Oh, it hurts me so. How could you? How could you do this to a poor, defenseless -”

 

“‘Defenseless’,” the quotations were accentuated.

 

“ _Mildly defended._ ”

 

Jax tilted his head as he worked, “Only mildly?”

 

“Whatever,” Jhin dismissed it with a flick of his free hand, letting Jax take the score, then returned to his dramatics. “How could you?”

 

"Same way I can do just about anythin' 'round yer horny ass."

 

"Oh, good god!"

 

Jhin tossed a pillow towards the mechanic, landing a hit on the back of his head. The PROJECT picked up the other pillow and plugged up the entrance to his blanket fort. The round ended: Jhin, 1. Jax, 3.


	2. Tickle Spots and Dreams

  
A light startled the PROJECT sometime later, as the stalwart pillow was relieved of its guard duty. The familiar trifecta of blue-green eyes looked down on him, tiredly, glimmering in the workshop's dimmed lights. Jhin sat still, faking as though he were 'asleep'.

  
For curiosities' sake.

  
The covers around his head were parted, a warm hand placed on the back of his neck. The rough fingers drifted lightly across the various wires and metal bits, sending strange (but satisfying) tingling sensations down Jhin's spine.

  
Jax inspected the usual spots thoroughly for any damage, or possibly new pieces that he'd need to properly fasten onto the PROJECT. Much to Jhin's discontent, mind you, as _he_ thought he did a fine job upgrading himself. The ports in the back of Jhin's helm were always the first to be checked, due to his unfortunate habit of sticking things where they don't belong (which often happened to be strips of circuitry, wire-ends, and the like into those ports). There must have been something wrong there; the mechanic gave a disappointed sigh and started to check other spots. Jax checked the cables, wires, and flexible fibers that made up Jhin's neck and collar, merely parting the sheets enough to glance at them, then carefully placing them back.

  
The mechanic's eyes then drifted to the PROJECT's body plating. He held his breath for a moment, brow furrowing in concern at the misaligned pieces and torn, gnarly fibers around the latest injury.

  
_The one from that purple nuisance,_ Jhin remembered, a bit too late.

  
The mechanic reached blindly to the nightstand and grabbed about, eventually finding the tool he was looking for. Jhin flinched.

  
He _hated_ that tool. Pure evil incarnate. Invasive. Terrible. It was like the swiss army knife of futuristic repairman's tools. It had small screwdriver heads, plyer ends, scissors, two blades, and a weird metal... _thing_ specifically crafted - by the mechanic himself - to adjust Jhin's plating and other odd parts. It also had another purpose. The worst purpose of them all, one that could only be the brainchild of an absolute madman, the evilest of evildoers:

  
To _tickle_ him.

  
The end was just wide enough so that, when poked into a _very_ specific spot on Jhin side, it jabbed right into the mulfunct sensors that resided there. This would cause Jhin to convulse and burst into manic fits of laughter. A flaw carried over from before his surgery, it seemed. A terrible flaw, one of the flaws he wanted to be rid of - _ticklish sides_.

  
This, unfortunately, is exactly what happened when the mechanic leaned in and started prodding the injury. The bolt had hurried itself deep enough that the PROJECT's plating had split and let it dig into his sides. His prodding afterwords worsened it, and ended up revealing the sensors more. It was a wonder he hadn't broke out laughing at the wind for tickling him. He'd just assumed they had been destroyed by the bolt.

  
Was he wrong.

  
The sensors were, despite the both the impact of the crossbow bolt and Jhin's constant picking, intact, and the poking of Jax's tool sent them over the edge. Jhin began to giggle and twitch.

  
" _Oh_ , that tickles," Jhin managed to say, willing himself to stop being so... _embarrassing_. (Spoiler alert: it hadn't worked.)

  
"Try not t' move too much, yeh? Jus' a lil bit more pokin', then I'm done."

  
"What are you even-" Jhin broke into another fit of giggles.

  
"Sit still," Jax grumbled, then adjusted himself to attempt to stop Jhin's squirming.

  
Jhin had tried, but he occasionally wriggled beneath the mechanic's elbow, not even bothering to apologise when giggles began to bubble up from inside him. Keeping true to his own words, Jax proded only a little more, then bent back the plating as best he could with what he had. He covered the spot with red duct tape that he retrieved from his dresser.

  
"What the hell happened?"

  
"It's nothing, my dearest. Merely a wound from my latest fight."

  
"You need t' be more careful," an unusually stern look fell upon Jax's face. "Do you know how deep that is? At least two inches. Two. Inches. It's a damn miracle you can still stand with that kinda damage t' those fibers there."

  
"I suppose that explains a few things.."

  
Jax's mouth dropped open as his face went pale.

  
Jhin flinched, then mumbled, "I'm kidding."

  
"You fucking better be," the mechanic growled. "Stay 'ere an' rest, okay? I needa go scrounge around fer a couple replacement parts, er somethin' t' fix that all up. Be back inna jiffy, 'aight?"

  
Jhin nodded. A hesitant smile showed on Jax's lips. Both of them knew the likelihood that Jhin would stay put was low. Still, Jax hoped. Jhin counted the seconds it took for the mechanic to slip on a pair of work gloves and a second jacket, and walk out the back door into the scrapyard.   
Oh, how he wished that had been for just a little bit longer. Had they touched just a little bit more..

  
Visions flickered through Jhin's mind. Guilty fantasies, dreams, potential futures..

  
Jhin shivered. God, all he wanted to do then was grab the man and pull him down to the bed. Lock him in a big bear-hug and revel in his warmth. He wanted to brush his hair, finally tame that awful mess. Feel kisses, peppered across his helmet, and nuzzle in response. He wanted to huddle close and murmur sweet nothings to each other forever, giggling the hours away. He wanted to hold Jax tight and not let go, for _any_ reason.

  
The PROJECT sprung to his feet and ran after. He had to take the chance.


	3. The 50-50 Chance

His feet pounded at the ground in a decisive rhythm, kicking up gravel and water as he strode into the larger part of the scrapyard. The rain had let up by now, gentle showers misting the night air, giving definitive shape to the light cast by the large overhead lamps. The lamps buzzed in the familiar fashion of incandescent lights, giving sound to the otherwise silent scrapyard. Any normal person at this time would have been wary of such a place; a grim reminder of what would come of them should they take the wrong path to work, cross the wrong people, or carry an upgrade wanted by an infamous serial murderer. Scrap yards were, _essentially_ , graveyards for tech. And in a world where tech and humanity were growing ever more indiscernable, that meant any _one_ and any _thing_ could end up here and no one would care to tell the difference.

 

To Jhin, it was the closest he had to home. He knew all the twists and turns and dead ends of the maze-like complex, every pile of forgotten cars and remnants of technological fads of the past, every creaky sewercap and battered electrical box. And, more importantly, where the latest scrap would be dumped.

  
He also knew _that_ was where he'd find his mechanic.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The PROJECT jogged up to the small break in a wall of old models of grounded hovercars. He and Jax had been playing around at one point, a year or so ago, with a new tool the mechanic had MacGyvered together out of an old construction drone and a - as they call them up top - 'unfortunate victim of circumstance' (Jhin may or may not have been that circumstance). They'd cut a clean, circular hole in the pile, as well as some others. At the time they'd been for fun, but later proved to be rather useful shortcuts.  
Jhin stepped through the hole, drifting his fingers over the smoothed surface of the metal where it had liquefied and hardened. He struggled a bit going through this particular one. His legs, for one, were too long to fit through if not at a certain angle. The shape of his head and the shoulder attachment weren't too helpful either...

  
It took him a couple tries, three restarts, and a momentary break for a temper-tantrum; but, eventually, he made it through. A left at the red-brown electrical box, a right quickly after, and another awful climb through a shortcut, and he came upon what he was looking for. Just in time, too.

  
The mechanic clutched the shaft of another one of his handy inventions: the infamous Lamppost. Or, as he called it, 'the electrical bashy stick of get-the-fuck-of-my-lawn'. It was tooled using the base of one of the lanterns the rich households of the highest level used to light their mansions and streets. 'The biggest 'fuck you' they can give to us less fortunate folk, besides forcing us to loose our god damn minds with those hand-me-down augmentations they give us in the name of 'progress' an' 'equality'. Call us lazy fer not bein' able t' get our own,' Jax had said once, while showing off his prised creation. 'Lets see 'em call us lazy while their cryin' fer mercy.'

It had a tangle of barbed and electrical wires at the top. A small switch just above the balance point of the lamppost (sorry, _'the electrical bashy stick of get-the-fuck-of-my-lawn'_ ) served the purpose to send the current up though the proper electrical wiring to the barbed wire ends, where the electricity would arc intimidatingly. Unless, of course, it was interrupted by a face or, say, an arm or torso. It was powered by a decent-sized battery stored in a saddle-pack at the mechanic's hip. Enough to hurt, and hurt bad, but not nearly enough to kill somebody. It was mostly for defense and intimidation, in the off-chance some fool decided to insult, rob, or otherwise cross the mechanic. That didn't mean he didn't know how to use it, however.

  
Jhin trembled as he remembered being on the receiving end of one of those blows.

  
Jax kept his gaze firmly on the drone carrying the night's scrap dump. The drone was moving slowly, heaving the heavy transport bin of trash up and over the rusted fence of the scrap yard, and it seemed the mechanic was growing impatient. Eventually he walked over and leaned on one of the piles of gutted dishwashers and laundry machines, shoving his hand in his pocket and pulling out a battered, faded violet-colored box, pulled a small piece of something out of it, and put the box back in his pocket. He lifted the front of his helmet and popped whatever candy-snack he had on him into his mouth.

The PROJECT felt another surge within him as he admired the cool-looking, casual, heart throb aesthetic that resonated off the man across the way. The way his one hand was thrown lazily into his pocket, the other loosely gripping the shaft of the lantern, how his messy hair curled neatly at the ends and poked out of the front of his hood, the slow rise and fall of his chest.

  
Frankly, Jhin was confused. Not at the feeling, that he knew well. That disorienting high of joy and longing, the simultaneously energizing and draining sensation, that feeling that you were invincible, untouchable, that you could do anything when in the presence of The One. _Your_ One. The constant lurch to do something to impress them, to _awe_ them, to make it so that they feel the same thing of you. There was no other word for it but _love_.

  
He was not confused by _love_ , at least now. _Once_ , he had been. He'd never quite felt it before, at least for another person. He had loved _things_ , like his gun and his jacket and... that other thing, from long ago, before his transformation. He'd loved actions, like toying with his kittens, dancing just out if their reach, leaving a trail of beautifully mutilated bodies and hacked drones in his wake for them to sniff at. Even then, those loves had not been like this one. This one did not scream at him, it did not consume his entire being for a spilt second, taking everything from him, then leave him. Leave him feeling tired and empty. No, it whispered to him. Softly, sweetly, soothing him, pushing him places he hadn't planned to go, but didn't mind going to. It was not cold and sharp, like a knife, but warm and... smelly.

 

Like a blanket.

 

 _That_ was what confused him. How come he felt like this around this man? Why now, why not before, when he was still... human? This felt like a human emotion. By that, meaning it left him warm, feeling pleasant and content and relaxed. Organic. So why had he not felt it for anyone then? Why did he fell it for this dirty, grimy, smelly _mutt_? He'd always preferred cleanliness before.

  
"Ya just going to stand there, buggy?" Jax called. "Hidin' behind shit an' starin' at me all creepy-like?"

  
Jhin flinched. He'd been caught. And here he thought he was being sneaky.

  
He made his way over and pressed himself against Jax's arm. Everything begged him to lean closer, to touch more. He _needed_ it. His mask flickered to an angry red, blurry and confused as his mind processed things he no longer understood. The guilt, the blissful high, and everything else. It was like he was human again. It was madness.

  
"Gettin' chummy, now are we?" Jax teased, smirking devilishly. "Dont go too quick on me now, _baby_. I might not be able t' take it."

  
The PROJECT's face was an absolute mess now. He was flustered. This wasn't the time for another one of those games, but it'd happen alright. Yet again, Jax starts off ahead.

  
"It's cold. You're warm."

  
"Aw, thanks. Glad I could be of service. Sel knows how useless I am anyways."

  
"Oh gods, now who put that idea in your head? I'll see to it they won't bother you anymore."

  
The shocked flinch told Jhin he'd just scored a point, "What, like, kill 'em er somethin'?"

  
"No, take them out back and hit them over the knuckles with a spoon while saying 'bad boy!'."

  
"Kinky. I'm into it."

  
"It's sarcasm, you dog. Of course I'm going to kill them."

  
"Either way, sign me up," Jax was smiling so wide, now, it was almost disturbing. "Can't promise ya I'll stop the self-deprication, but I'd be willing t' take the chance at the fifty-fifty 'die or fuck a hot robot'."

  
Jhin jabbed his elbow into Jax's ribcage. Hard. The mechanic buckled over with a grunt, laughing after. Another point to Jax.

  
"I'm not a measly _robot_ ," Jhin growled.

  
Jax wheezed, "You an' I both know that ain't what yer gettin' all defensive about."

  
The PROJECT poised to jab Jax in the side again.

  
"No, no! I take that back, take it back."

  
"Good," Jhin lowered his arm.

  
"Not takin' back the bit about fuckin' a hot robot, though."

  
The mechanic cackled and yelped as Jhin kicked him in the shin with his heel, tying out the round at an unimpressive 2-2.

  
"The drone is done."


End file.
